Chor. I fear her might who doth this whole house wreck,

      The Goddess unlike Gods,

      The prophetess of evil all too true,

      The Erinnys of thy father's imprecations,

      Lest she fulfil the curse,

      O'er-wrathful, frenzy-fraught,

      The curse of Œdipus,

      Laying his children low.

      This Strife doth urge them on.

      And now a stranger doth divide the lots,

      The Chalyb,117 from the Skythians emigrant,

      The stern distributor of heaped-up wealth,

      The iron that hath assigned them just so much

      Of land as theirs, no more,

      As may suffice for them

      As grave when they shall fall,

      Without or part or lot

      In the broad-spreading plains.

      And when the hands of each

      The other's blood have shed,

      And the earth's dust shall drink

      The black and clotted gore,

      Who then can purify?

      Who cleanse thee from the guilt?

      Ah me! O sorrows new,

      That mingle with the old woes of our house!

      I tell the ancient tale

      Of sin that brought swift doom;

      Till the third age it waits,

      Since Laios, heeding not

      Apollo's oracle,

      (Though spoken thrice to him

      In Pythia's central shrine,)

      That dying childless, he should save the State.

      But he by those he loved full rashly swayed,

      Doom for himself begat,

      His murderer Œdipus,

      Who dared to sow in field

      Unholy, whence he sprang,

      A root of blood-flecked woe.

      Madness together brought

      Bridegroom and bride accursed.

      And now the sea of evil pours its flood:

      This falling, others rise,

      As with a triple crest,

      Which round the State's stern roars:

      And but a bulwark slight,

      A tower's poor breadth, defends:

      And lest the city fall

      With its two kings I fear.

      And that atonement of the ancient curse

      Receives fulfilment now;118

      And when they come, the evils pass not by.

      E'en so the wealth of sea-adventurers,

      When heaped up in excess,

      Leads but to cargo from the stern thrown out.119

      For whom of mortals did the Gods so praise,

      And fellow-worshippers,

      And race of those who feed their flocks and herds120

      As much as then they honoured Œdipus,

      Who from our country's bounds

      Had driven the monster, murderess of men?

      And when too late he knew,

      Ah, miserable man! his wedlock dire,

      Vexed sore with that dread shame,

      With heart to madness driven,

      He wrought a twofold ill,

      And with the hand that smote his father's life

      Blinded the eyes that might his sons have seen.

      And with a mind provoked

      By nurture scant, he at his sons did hurl121

      His curses dire and dark,

      (Ah, bitter curses those!)

      That they with spear in hand

      Should one day share their father's wealth; and I

      Fear now lest swift Erinnys should fulfil them.

      Mess. Be of good cheer, ye maidens, mother-reared;

      Our city has escaped the yoke of bondage,

      The boasts of mighty men are fallen low,

      And this our city in calm waters floats,

      And, though by waves lashed, springs not any leak.

      Our fortress still holds out, and we did guard

      The gates with champions who redeemed their pledge.

      In the six gateways almost all goes well;

      But the seventh gate did King Apollo choose,122

      Seventh mighty chief, avenging Laios'